A Stroll Through the Souks of Riyadh

There is nothing so mysterious, so tantalizing as entering an out of the way alley in downtown Riyadh and discovering that within lies a group of souks filled with an eclectic mixture of goods, from gold to plastic and everything in between.

In the Middle East, souks are usually arranged by commodity, rather like the car strips in your average American burg. The general idea is if you want to buy it, the fellow in the next shop has a similar item, maybe shinier, cheaper or bigger. The buyer naturally has an advantage, with the ability to play off one sales pitch against another, and one doesn't have to go more than a few feet to provide an opinion on price. Haggling for an item is a point of honor, and the more fevered the negotiations, the more triumph is felt by both buyer and seller at the conclusion of a good sale.

My first experiences with souk crawling began in one of the amazing number of gold souks located in the center of the city. Seasoned ex-pats steered us to some of their favorites, ones used to seeing westerners standing in front of them, minds swirling with the sheer overwhelming goldness of the gold. We located the first one in a basement alley, down a steep flight of stairs and around a corner. It was rumored to be frequented by a certain secretary of state whenever he visited the kingdom. Baghlaf Jewelry was manned by men fluent in english and salesmanship. The first thing I noticed on approach to a gold souk was the gold itself. It's all over, it's glittering, it's dazzling to behold. The westerner's eye is not used to the gleam of 22 or 23 karat gold. Placed up on every inch of wall space are the favorite necklaces of Saudi women, breastplates of gold coins stung together and worn to display wealth. The next favorite jewelry item are bangles, rows and rows of gold bangles in every different width and design. They are worn on both arms, tons of them, so that when passing a Saudi woman in her layers of abaya and veils, she jingles with every step.  Think of row upon row of shops all the same goldness.

The next adventure on our itinerary was the rug souks. There, in dusty row after row piled high were persian and afghan rugs of incredible variety. These souks were even more open air, with salesmen pitching maybe one or two piles in competition with the pile next to theirs. These fellows would snag anyone looking faintly interested in their stack and begin throwing rug after rug at your feet, creating an intense desire to see the one just below it, which might be slightly more beautiful. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I just had to have one that contained some beautiful dark blues and plums. The salesman showed me just such a rug and he gave me a price which I knew was his high offer, and I countered with an amount that I believed was all the saudi riyals I had in my purse. He waved me off, and I shrugged and walked away. A second later he was running behind me, agreeing to my price. When I looked into my purse I realized I had more than that but unwilling to show him, I turned away to pull it out and presented him the bills. We had a great laugh over that.

There were spice souks, barrels and bags of spices which made walking through them an olfactory paradise. Cardomam, cinnamon, cumin, mint, mustard seed, turmeric, and more than I could ever identify wafted throughout the alley. There were souks full of brass bins, bowls, and decorative items. There were basket souks, woven with rush and made in the mountains near Khamis Mushyat in the western provinces. The westerners referred to the round ones as snake baskets and the oval ones were called Moses baskets. I'm sure they had more practical uses by the Beoduins.

And of course, there were souks devoted to watches, electronics, clothing and household goods. Even the most mundane purchases were made exciting by the connection to a mysterious and foreign land that few touch.

I can think of a number of friends who would be in shopper's heaven, I know I was.